


Summer at Courfeyrac's

by BaronMaximilian



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Combeferre is Uncoordinated, Courfeyrac is The Horsey One, Enjolras and Courfeyrac are the worst best friends ever, Gen, There's an indirect sex joke too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaronMaximilian/pseuds/BaronMaximilian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre and Enjolras spend a few weeks of summer at Courfeyrac's house. When horses get involved, Combeferre is less than happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer at Courfeyrac's

“Damn...damn…damn!” Combeferre toppled to the floor in a heap, his left foot still caught in his stirrup. His horse snorted and stopped, turning its head to look, almost in disdain Combeferre thought, at its fallen rider.  
Courfeyrac, having heard the noise, turned his horse around and trotted over to his friend. He dismounted and offered Combeferre his hand,  
“Fallen again then, Augustin?” he said not unkindly as he hauled Combeferre to his feet.  
Combeferre dusted himself down with a scowl,  
“This is completely useless, I can’t do it. And this time I came very close to smashing my glasses. Can we not just go home now?”  
“My dear Combeferre,” Courfeyrac said, hopping back onto his grey mare, “we’re about five miles from home and the only way back is to ride. Besides, we may end up losing Enjolras, wherever he may have gotten to.”

 

\---

 

_Earlier that day..._

It had been Courfeyrac’s idea, naturally. It was summer and their classes had ended, so Courfeyrac had proposed that Combeferre and Enjolras accompany him back to his estate for a week or two. The other two had agreed, and so come the first day of their break they all boarded a carriage for the de Courfeyrac manor. The first few days passed without many events, until Courfeyrac had suggested that they go horse riding in the grounds around his family home. Courfeyrac’s love of horses was well known amongst his friends, and was shared in part by Enjolras who, as a rich man’s son, had grown up around the animals and had learned to ride at an early age. It was one of the few enjoyments that Enjolras was a little less severe in, in fact. Combeferre however, did not care for horses at all. His parents didn’t ride, and none of his siblings ever showed interest, so he was never obliged to even lay eyes on the animals, let alone ride them. The thought had never even crossed his mind until now.  
  
Not wanting to upset his friends, he had agreed to accompany them on a hack for the afternoon. The trouble had started the moment he entered the stables. For one thing, it smelled. As a physician in training, Combeferre was used to less than pleasant odours, but this was a bit different. Inside the stables the air was thick with the scent of manure, hay, sweat and horse hair, and it choked Combeferre almost immediately. Courfeyrac had showed Combeferre to the horse he would ride, a doddery old chestnut gelding who looked half asleep, and handed him the saddle. Before he could even ask what he was supposed to do with it, Courfeyrac had gone to his own horse. It took him three attempts to even lift the heavy leather onto the horse’s back, and when he finally got it on, it was back to front. He had even more trouble with the bridle; he didn’t know which hole went where and ended up trying to slot the noseband over the poor animal’s ear. Eventually a stable hand appeared and set it right. Then came mounting.

Getting his foot high enough to slot it into the stirrup was one thing, finding the strength to actually push himself up onto the animal was another. He eventually got stuck clinging to the pommel of the saddle and was given a leg up by Courfeyrac, landing heavily in the saddle causing his horse to roll its eyes and put its ears flat back. (Courfeyrac, of course, swung up with practised ease and landed lightly.)  
“Err…how do I make it…go?” Combeferre asked sheepishly once all three of them were seated on their mounts.  
“Just give him a nudge with your heels” said Enjolras, who was sorting out his reins, “and then he’ll walk on” Combeferre did, but the horse stayed still as a statue, save for a flick of the tail.  
“Now what? It’s not moving”  
“Francois is a bit slow,” admitted Courfeyrac, “So you may need to give him a bit of a kick. He’s old, bless him”  
Combeferre, not really certain as to what a ‘kick’ meant, flapped his feet into the horse’s sides several times, and sure enough it started plodding forward. Courfeyrac and Enjolras nudged their own horses into a walk and for a while the three of them walked side by side around the Loire Valley countryside.

Just as Combeferre was beginning to think that this wasn’t so bad after all, Courfeyrac announced,  
”Well we can't stay at a walk forever!" and urged his horse into a brisk trot.  
Enjolras did the same. Not wanting to be left behind, Combeferre’s horse decided it would join in, and bounced unexpectedly into a quick trot. The bumpiness of the rhythm took Combeferre completely off guard, and he crashed to the floor with a loud curse. After being helped back on and the concept of rising to a trot explained to him, Combeferre tried again only to be met with similar results.  
Maybe, he declared after three more falls and some certain bruising, he should stick to walking for a bit.

For a while he was fine walking slowly behind the other two and wishing he was somewhere else when, out of the blue, the horse spooked and charged off at a canter, Combeferre holding on for dear life. Somehow Combeferre managed to ride out the horse’s bolt at the cost of falling to the ground yet again, which brings us back to the beginning.

 

\---

 

“I never, ever want to do that again.” Combeferre said firmly as the trio rode, at a walk of course, back to the manor, “I think I’ll be bruised for weeks now. I’d rather stick to corpses really.”

He looked at his two friends and saw to his dismay that they were both trying not to laugh.

“Thank you two for being so supportive!” he huffed, slumping slightly in his seat.  
“Combeferre, my friend, you are overreacting slightly!” chuckled Enjolras good-naturedly, “You fell off six times, it’s hardly a tragedy.”  
“What’s more,” added Courfeyrac, reaching over to pat his friend’s shoulder, “you did manage to ride out a full blown bolt on your first time riding ever. That is a story to go with your scars, isn’t it?”  
“I suppose,” Combeferre sighed, “only tomorrow, I’d prefer if instead we have a day sans equines. Never mind bruises, I don’t think my backside can take much more.”  
“Your backside’s had worse if I remember rightly” remarked Courfeyrac with a snort, drawing a shove and a sharp, “Hé!” from Combeferre while Enjolras bit his lip and pretended he wasn’t about to start laughing again.  
“I think a better course of action,” Enjolras said once he had recovered, “would be to think of new pamphlet ideas to take to the print shop come our return. After all, we can leave university work for a bit but the work for the people cannot end.”  
“That would be more preferable,” nodded Courfeyrac, “what say you, Combeferre? Pamphlets won’t damage a hair on your head!”  
Combeferre, with an incredibly straight face, said, “Mes cheveux sont plus précieux que tes chevaux.”

Courfeyrac and Enjolras shared a look, and with one motion pushed Combeferre off his horse.  
Combeferre walked the rest of the way home.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm getting over my fear about of writing fanfiction it seems. I didn't really research this fic so please point out any inaccuracies there might be. Thanks to Gen for coming up with the pun!


End file.
